Tag: Khe Sanh

Music is a very important part of most people’s lives so why shouldn’t the same be true in death? How many times have we attended funerals and known, without ever saying so, that the music played was wholly inappropriate for the life being mourned?

When it comes to choosing such musical interludes, sandwiched between oratory and final farewells, the deceased’s family generally have far more pressing concerns than making sure the song-list is appropriate. Amazing Grace for a committed rock’n’roll fan? Nearer My God To Thee for a card-carrying atheist?

So, just for the record, and to hopefully kick off an awareness campaign for well-organised music-lovers everywhere, the Top Five songs I want played at my funeral. This is by no means a comprehensive list; I’d prefer a Top 100 list but it may see the service extend a little long and people may run out of nice things to say, if indeed anybody does, before too long.

These Foolish Things – Bryan Ferry

Written in 1936 with music by Jack Strachey and lyrics by Eric Maschwitz under his pen name Holt Marvell. Maschwitz, who also wrote the lyrics for A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square, was one of the more interesting figures of British musical theatre. Aside from a long list of musicals and revues, he also worked in Hollywood, co-writing the adaptation of the 1939 film, Goodbye Mr Chips, for which he won an Academy Award nomination, and during World War II worked with MI6 and the Special Operations Executive (SOE).

He is reputed to have been involved with actress Anna May Wong and These Foolish Things was an attempt to assuage his grief over the end of their romance (Maschwitz was also later married to Hermione Gingold and had a long relationship with Judy Campbell, the mother of Jane Birkin.)

The song appeared in a London revue, Spread It Abroad, to little interest in 1936 but became a hit when it was recorded by Leslie Hutchinson. Since then, it’s been notably covered by such performers as Frank Sinatra, Billie Holiday and Ella Fitzgerald. Bryan Ferry nailed it so beautifully, creating a heartachingly coruscating rendition of loss and yearning that so many of us can identify with, on his first solo album in 1973.

Its origins go back to a French song, Le Mer, written by Charles Trenet in 1946; American songwriter Jack Lawrence, also responsible for Frank Sinatra’s first hit, All Or Nothing At All, composed entirely new lyrics and it became an international sensation for Bobby Darin in 1959. This is pure swingin’ Bobby, a wonderful evocation of a time before he tossed aside Sandra Dee and a particularly hideous hairpiece and remade himself as a politically-relevant folksinger.

Actor Kevin Spacey did a great version of Beyond The Sea in his 2004 Bobby Darin bio-pic of the same name. I’ve included two YouTube clips. The first comes from a 1960 Ed Sullivan Show which shows Bobby unsuccessfully wrestling with his lip-synching responsibilities. The second is Kevin Spacey’s performance from the movie.

There had to be an Australian song but I’m ashamed to admit I was quite the snob in the 70s and avoided home-grown music like the plague. It’s only in recent years that I’ve discovered so much good stuff. So it was a choice between Khe Sanh, in my humble opinion the best Australian rock song ever written (take a bow, Don Walker) and April Sun In Cuba (written by Paul Hewson and Marc Hunter). The latter wins out only because I had a grudging respect for Dragon back then and it perfectly encompasses the late 70s summers spent at Tamarama, when I’d head to the beach in August and not come back until March.

I worked in a Sydney disco in the late 70s and still love music of this period, when orchestrations were lush and lustily energetic, before disco fell victim to the plague of the synthesizer. I have many favourite disco songs but some, such as I Will Survive, are not quite befitting a funeral. Of course, Disco Inferno is not exactly a safe choice but it’s always been my all-time favourite so bugger propriety. Read into this choice what you will.

Disco Inferno was written by Leroy Green and Ron Kersey; Kersey was a member of The Trammps and also worked with such other Philadelphia disco groups as the Salsoul Orchestra and MFSB. It was a huge club hit in 1976 but gained wider popularity when an 11-minute version was included on the soundtrack of Saturday Night Fever. I hope the mourners will perform the Bus Stop around the casket when this plays.

Lyrics by Paul Williams. That’s all you really need to know. Paul is one of my favourite songwriters, an all-round nice guy and gentleman and the subject of a future blog or three. I had the joy of meeting him when I was writing the liner notes for a CD retrospective of his work, Songs For The Family Of Man: A Collection 1969-1979, and it’s the one instance I can recall where it pays to meet one of your musical heroes.

Timeless television entertainment of the very best kind, The Love Boat originally aired from 1977 to 1986. As fans of Gopher, Doc and Captain Stubbing will already know, Jack Jones recorded two versions during its run, the best with a sensuously pulsing disco influence. In the final season, Jones was replaced by Dionne Warwick. The song has also been covered by such artists as Charo and Amanda Lear.